other countries. Events, strange as fiction, actually
occurred. Count Raimond of Roussillon, for instance, imprisoned his wife
in a tower because the troubadour, Guillem of Cabestann, was in love
with and beloved by her. He waylaid the lover, killed him, cut his heart
out of his breast and sent it, roasted, to his countess. When she had
partaken of it, he showed her Guillem's head and asked her how she had
enjoyed the dish. "So much that no other food shall ever pass my lips,"
she replied, casting herself out of the window. When the story spread
abroad, the great nobles rose up in arms against Raimond, and even the
King of Aragon made war on him. He was caught and imprisoned for life,
and his estates were confiscated. Guillem and the countess were buried
in the church, and for a long time after men and women travelled long
distances to kneel at their grave. The charming poems of Melusine and
the beautiful Magelone, which to this day delight the reader, were
composed during the same period.

Before the eleventh century poetry in the true sense of the word did not
exist. There were only Latin Church hymns and legends, perverted
reminiscences of antiquity, and, in the vulgar tongue, legends of the
saints and simple dancing-songs for the amusement of the lower classes.
Thanks to the relentless war which the clergy waged against them, a few
only have been preserved. There can be no doubt that Provence was the
birthplace of European poetry. The "sweet language" of Provence was the
first to reach perfection and perfect maturity. It drove the language of
the German conquerors eastwards and prepared the ground for the French
tongue.

The beginning of the twelfth century saw the birth of the poetry of the
troubadours, which possessed from the first in great perfection
everything that distinguishes modern lyric poetry from the antique.
Instead of the syllable-measuring quantity, we now have the emphasising
accent; the rhyme, one of the most important lyrical contrivances--and
in its near approach to music the most striking characteristic of modern
lyrical poetry as compared with the antique--reaches perfection together
with the complete, evenly-recurring verse which is still to-day peculiar
to lyrical art. The poems of many of the troubadours pulsate with
passionate life, and bear no trace of the traditional or the
conventional. The martial songs of Bertrand de Born stride along with a
rhythm reminiscent of the clanking of iron.